One Soul
by Dominique Sotto
Summary: Very dark Sarevok romantic episode. Rating R for the disturbing idea of the story. COMPLETE
1. Default Chapter

Part 1.  
  
Coppers Cornet, 12 am, one of those days...  
  
"Dear sister."  
  
Sarevok's cold, measured tone put Rima ill at ease, even as she realized that it was another nightmare. The large male bowed. She noted absently that he did not wear armor, but that somehow did not make him neither smaller, no less threatening.  
  
"Get lost," Rima heard herself growling in the dream. In dream Rima was by some reason taller, fairer and much more rude than the sleeping on the straw filled mattress Rima. "Get out of my dreams, you bastard! Is not it enough that I have to dream of a mad mage, this brat Imoen and assorted foes? I am done with you! You are naught to me! You are emptiness! You are a victory won and forgotten!"  
  
Sarevok seemed amused. "Must you offend me so, dear sister? It was your victory, yes. You killed me, and I will be a fool to deny it. But forgotten? Aren't you dreaming of me?" Rima screwed up her face and did not reply. "If I ignore the dream, maybe it will go away?" It did not work for her before, but there is the first time for everything. "Yes," Sarevok said, "there is the firs time for everything." Rima trembled. "Do I scare you?" Sarevok asked immediately. "That's good. Fear makes you more human. And so much warmer." "I am not afraid!" she exclaimed, "I was never afraid of you!" "Then why did you kill me?" his parry was quick. Rima could not be slower in answering, otherwise she suspected that she somehow would lose this duel. "Because I had to,"she said with all calm she could master. Nine Hells, it was difficult to be calm in his presence!  
  
"Good. Now, I wish to see if you are going to lie to me...tell me why it was necessary?" Rima growled: "I will answer if you tell me why it was necessary to kill ME!" Sarevok smiled: "It was not. But I was doing lot's of killing then, and I did not realize what you were destined to become for me. But I know now. It's you turn."  
  
"To deliver the world of your madness," she said slowly, enjoying every word.  
  
"Are you taking me for Anomen, Rima? Truth, tell me the truth!" Rima felt dizzy. She desperately wanted to dream of blooming gardens and laughter. Or Anomen.  
  
To her horror, Anomen did appear by her feet all over sudden. He was laying in between herself and Sarevok, tucked into a thin woolen blanket.  
  
An absent boyish grin on his youthful face. A curl dropping to his brow. A scar which could have been wiped away with a simple salve, but which he was so proud of.  
  
It was Anomen, all right, and Anomen just as she remembered him before falling asleep that night.  
  
"Truth Rima...Mine truth, not his...." She only then noted that Sarevok had a point of his huge black sword resting on Anomen's throat. Sarevok will not even have to push, she thought. He will have only to stop supporting the sword, and the sharp end will open the artery.  
  
"Truth..." Rima licked her lips. "You are my rival...you were my rival. Killing you was the ultimate way to win."  
  
Sarevok laughed and bellowed: "That was my truth back then in Baldur's Gate. But now I see it differently. There is a way sister, a simple way for both of us to inherit our father."  
  
Rima scowled: "You kill him - and I will follow you to the Nine Hells, or wherever you are now!"  
  
"I will not kill the boy, Rima. It will be left to you, I suspect."  
  
The sword slid from Anomen's throat, leaving a dark trace behind it and slid towards Rima. She stood still as if a hold spell was cast on her and felt the cold tip of the blade traveling up her body, cutting her robes apart. The sword's tip stopped dead atop of her left breast, after the velvet and silk parted. Strangely she was not afraid any longer.  
  
"Oh, you almost got it, sister. You are trying out the way...tentatively, yes. As a maiden who touches the cold waters of the lake with one toe of her foot...but I know, I can feel that you are growing bolder and sooner or later, you will dive."  
  
Rima smiled: "Brother, you are the worst dream a girl can have." She tried to close the ripped dress on her chest, but Sarevok's sarcastic smile stopped her and she let the fabric to hang loose again.  
  
Sarevok sheathed the greatsword at his back and started walking away into the strange, reddish mist which now was closing on them. Rima stepped over the still sleeping Anomen's body: "That's right! You get outta here!"  
  
The large figure turned, and Sarevok's voice boomed: "Or you will follow me to the Nine Hells? Patience, my dear sister, patience. We will meet there, I foresee it." Then he added something that Rima could not quite hear.  
  
She finally woke. This time Rima was not coveerd in cold sweat and tears. She felt strangely revitalized. Soon she got bored of staring at the ceiling and the square of the window lit up by the dawn and sleeping Anomen. Carefully she moved the sheets and blanket aside and looked at his throat. The man's tanned skin was untouched. Anomen's eyes opened, and Rima looked into untroubled azure, sweet as the spring sky. She lowered herself and kissed the man. Anomen's hands caught her waist and with a chuckle he threw the blankets away, pressing Rima closer to him.  
  
As Rima shut her eyes, opening her embrace to her lover, she suddenly heard what Sarevok mumbled when he rushed away. This time it sounded louder and she understood every word.  
  
One blood. One soul. One power. 


	2. Part 2

Part 2.  
  
Saradush, 10 pm, one of those days.  
  
Another fireball exploded outside and the shutters almost caught on fire. Rima did not turn towards the noise, all too intent on studying a dagger she held in her hand.  
  
The blade was carved out of shiny black stone, semi-transparent on its edges. The groove in the middle was deep and not yet smoothed with use. The most peculiar thing about the dagger, thought Rima, was its hilt. It was made out of heavy dark metal -- adamantine. The inlay on the hilt's headpiece was of yellowish bone, carved into the likeness of a skull. Around it, a dozen or so of small garnets made a ring of tears. A couple of tiny rubies were set into the eyesockets.  
  
"Do you think it's a human bone?" Rima asked aloud, squeezing the knife's point between her thumb and forefinger. She balanced it, as if she was about to let it fly. Sarevok took a moment to admire the assassin's poise and readiness. "She must be running out of patience right about now," he thought. Indeed, Rima's eyes lifted from the blade and glanced at her brother. Seeing that, Sarevok rose himself off the armchair and said smoothly: "It was the right thing to kill Amellisan, Rima. She broke her vow to our Sire. Besides, it will give us the access to her archives and will confuse those of our rivals, who are still alive."  
  
Rima smiled coldly: "I asked, if that was a human bone, Sarevok. You did not answer my question."  
  
The man grinned, fixing her with a long, lazy stare. "I answered the question which was on your mind, not on your lips. But, if it displeases you," he continued, starting to walk towards her, "I will answer the words which were on your lips as well."  
  
It took him only four paces to cross the room. He inclined his head and watched the dagger's hilt. "Yes, it's a human bone. The sacrificial daggers of Bhaal's high priests are often decorated thus."  
  
The pause grew, as the brother and sister stood by the barricaded window. Rima turned the dagger slowly, so that the blade's tip pointed at Sarevok. As if that was some sort of a signal,, the man took Rima's chin in his palm and gently pushed her head back. The yellow glow of Sarevok's orbs reflected for a moment in Rima's dark, widened eyes.  
  
Their lips and bodies touched. The dagger's point slowly moved into the man's muscular chest, but he kept on kissing Rima, ignoring the pain. Rima's hand dropped to her side, and she mumbled an apology.  
  
The door to the room opened, and Sarevok let Rima out of his arms. The brother and sister smiled unpleasantly at the pale youth, who stood in the doorway. "The next time you will interrupt me when I am talking to my sister, I will cut you asunder, Anomen," Sarevok said quietly.  
  
"That was not "talking", Sarevok! And that was not a brotherly kiss!" Anomen shut the door with a violent thud and rushed towards them. "Have you lost your mind, Rima?"  
  
Half-way, Anomen almost tripped, when he saw that Sarevok's chest was bloodied and the black dagger in Rima's hand. The groove and the garnets on the dagger came alive, shining bright, hungry red.  
  
"What has this monster done to you?"" Anomen groaned, catching Rima and trying to pull her away from Sarevok.  
  
"Nothing," Rima answered. "Nothing that I did not want my brother to do to me."  
  
They all waited in silence for Anomen to start breathing again. The shocked expression left his face, giving way to rage. The young knight turned from Rima to Sarevok, his strong hands balling into fists. "You!" he rasped, "How dare you! Helm curse you!"  
  
As if Helm answered Anomen's prayer, Sarevok paled and propped himself against the wall. The blood soaking his tunic blackened and the fabric started smoking around it. He shook violently, clutching his chest.  
  
"You reek of evil, you..you! You must have put her under some spell, you are corrupting."  
  
Anomen did not finish. Instead he hit his neck with an open palm, as if trying to kill a fly. His fingers closed around the black metal hilt incrusted with yellowish bone and flushing red stones. Slowly, the boy turned towards Rima and eyed her in disbelief. With the last bit of strength he pulled the dagger out, and his lifeblood sprayed the walls, the bed, the window and Rima. As Anomen died, Sarevok straightened, all signs of feebleness gone.  
  
"Quick thinking," he said to Rima, and picked up the dagger. "Curious little toy."  
  
Rima took the dagger from him and hid it in her bag. "Dangerous indeed, brother. But not a toy. I reckon, that once it tasted blood, it wanted a death to follow. Forgive me, brother, for almost killing you again."  
  
"Dear sister, you choose to kill another for me to live. You lost a lover to do this noble deed. I shall see that you are compensated for this...loss,"Sarevok replied evenly.  
  
Rima noted with pleasure that there was a plea and a touch of self-doubt in Sarevok's voice.  
  
She sat on the edge of the bed and made a small gesture with her hand, telling Sarevok to approach: "The time is right". The man leaned over her and tried to unlace the bodice of the assassin's dress. The fighter chuckled at the sudden clumsiness of his fingers and abandoned his task, pushing Rima down and grabbing the hem of her skirts.  
  
"Throat.." mumbled Sarevok as he pinned Rima to the bed with his weight, "why did you go for his throat?" He moaned with pleasure as his hands finally touched Rima's warm skin under the skirts. "I thought," he mumbled between two long kisses, "I thought you would go for his heart." Rima's smile became dreamy.  
  
"The lad served his purpose. There was no need to cheapen it with symbolical crap," she whispered at length and then her back arched and she screamed: "Now, brother, now!"  
  
Another fireball exploded in the torn street of Saradush, echoed by the screams of wounded and frightened. Sarevok listened for a moment and grinned: "The War of Sacrifice is upon us. The time is right indeed, Rima." The woman kissed the tip of her slender finger and pressed it against her lover's lips. 


	3. Part 3

Part 3  
  
Pocket Plane, approximately 5 am, one of those days  
  
Rima jerked her head upward and to the left in an effort to throw the bangs out of her eyes.  
  
"Go easy on your neck, dear sister, or Cespenar will have to fetch your head back from the Material Plane," Sarevok chuckled. Rima lifted an eyebrow and threw a handful of scrolls at him. And a paperweight. Skull- shaped paperweight of course, since it was stolen alongside with the documents from Amellisan's chambers. Sarevok caught the paperweight and brought it back to still sizzling Rima. The couple had ransacked a long- abandoned Bhaal's temple a fortnight past and had been working on sorting and studying the priestess' files ever since, which drove the vivacious assassin to the brink of insanity.  
  
"I told you two days ago, that you will find nothing else of importance, but you had to be stubborn! Now, stop acting like a child. The world is ripe, and we are the pickers," Sarevok chided. Rima pushed herself from the table, got up to her feet and swept three-quarters of its content away. The papers flapped in the air for a moment, then drifted down and finally covered the floor in a random pattern. Rima's temper settled almost as fast as the papers and she touched her lover's shoulder apologetically.  
  
"Oi, oi! Does Mistress wants Cespenar to clean?" cooed what at the first glance appeared to be a roughly carved statue of a squatting demon, and on the second glance was an imp. The assassin nodded to Cespenar and it started to gather the papers at once.  
  
"All that is on the floor can go into the garbage, Ces," Rima ordered, dancing on the balls of her feet to stretch. Sarevok frowned in disapproval, but she only laughed in return.  
  
"These three are the only ones useful to us, you were right," Rima addressed Sarevok and tapped her fingers on the stack of papers, which she kept on the table.  
  
"Here, Sarevok, those three are the files Amellisan kept well hidden, but oft updated. Two of them - Sendai and Abazigal belong to her pack of hell- hounds. And the third one - Balthazar - is neither with the Five, nor did he ever come to Saradush."  
  
"And those are yours and mine, is it not?" Sarevok asked coldly, pointing at the thick bundle, lying separately, tied with a length of thin cord. Rima looked at Cespenar carrying the large stack to the crack by the room's wall. The imp dropped his burden down and the flames leaped up from the crack, feasting on the paper and parchments.  
  
Rima grinned at him, showing white teeth: "No, dear, not yours and mine. Only yours."  
  
"That's very clever of you, sister," Sarevok said amusedly "but, do you really think it gives you some sort of an advantage? My little pretty thief, there is nothing new Amellisan can tell me about you." He picked a lock of her hair and started rolling it around his index finger. "You should not have learned anything that you do not know about me already either. We have one soul and there are no secrets we can keep from each other. I am Gorion's ward, smiling and lying politely. You know how a beggar kid can survive in Sembia. So tell me, what was there in Amellisan's papers about me that you deemed them worth keeping?"  
  
"Nothing, but your name, written so many times..." Rima replied, catching his palm and pressing it against her cheek. "And a sketch of you at the age of ten. I am a sentimental woman." She uplifted her face towards him and smiled.  
  
Sarevok kissed her on the forehead, freed his hands and mounted the chair she just vacated. The fighter picked the bottle from the table and poured wine into a tall goblet. The white engravings appeared on the glass surface as the dark liquid filled the vessel. Some dead king or another.  
  
"Just a thing a sister would do. I beg you not to show it to my fiancée," Sarevok volunteered after a pause.  
  
"She has already seen it," Rima laughed. "And your wife as well. And your lover."  
  
Sarevok took a sip from the goblet and looked at her above the rim. His eyes were but an emotionless shine, like a noon sun. "Of course," he said, "but must you have all those titles? I much prefer "sister". It states quite plainly all that you are to me."  
  
Rima put her hands around his, and inclined the goblet toward her. She drank of his wine and said softly: "Sister is good." Then, she added as an afterthought: "One more thing. Did Bhaal sire more than one child on any woman other than Alianna?"  
  
He shook his head negatively: "Probably not. Or it does not matter, since we are the only ones to survive. Now, to indulge my brotherly pride, tell me how did you find it out?"  
  
Rima nodded agreeably. "We removed your helmet and armor in Baldur's Gate to make sure that you were dead, Sarevok. Big men like you are not easy to kill. You have changed much since then..." Rima glanced at the short dark stubble covering Sarevok's head, his gaunt features and yellow orbs, "but I remembered you well. It was much like looking into a mirror after putting the Girdle of Gender Change on. At first I thought that it was Bhaal's face. However, I saw dozens of Bhaalspawn since. Not two of them were alike, each taking after her mother. Ours are Alianna's features, brother. I would be a fool to doubt that."  
  
"And you are anything but a fool," Sarevok smiled and let the glass slip from his fingers. The imp caught it in the air and drunk the last drops of wine from it. Sarevok intertwined his fingers with Rima's and murmured: "One blood." "One soul, "Rima added solemnly. "One power!" Sarevok finished, raising his voice to almost a battle cry and Rima echoed: "One power. Now, my dear, let us put our minds to attaining it."  
  
"Which one of the three should we start with?" Sarevok asked letting her go with only a slightest sigh of disappointment.  
  
"The one who was never caught in her net," Rima suggested quickly, as if she prepared her answer long ago.  
  
"Then it's most likely that he will not be caught in ours," the fighter objected. Rima smiled and pulled a piece of thin paper out of the pile: "Amellisan had done her homework, brother. But she most graciously left it to us to close the trap."  
  
"Rice paper?" Sarevok muttered, surprised. He glanced through the content of the page and a triumphant smile twisted his lips. "You never waste your time, sister, I give you that." 


	4. Part 4

Part 4.  
  
Amkethran, approximately 2 am, one of those days  
  
A man walked through the opened gate of Amkethran 's crypts. His steps were light and sure. He moved stealthily with one hand barely touching the wall and appeared to be trying to remain unseen.  
  
A pair of mocking eyes watched his every movement. The owner of the eyes was a tall woman, who took particular care to dress darkly. She crawled slowly around a large sarcophagus raised a foot or so above someone's grave on six lion paws, trying to find a better viewpoint, as the man continued to explore the crypt. It was impossible to guess if he knew that he was being watched. Every time he turned toward her, the woman dipped her head, allowing the large hood to slide down or else she lifted gloved hands to her face, with her fingers crisscrossed to make an improvised mask. She realized too late just how pale her face was, and now she was concerned that it might be visible. Last time the woman was in this crypt, it was pitch-black. Now, the light penetrated the crypts, coming from somewhere, from some crack or disguised window, but she did not have enough time to find the source before Balthazar came. The hiding woman was sure that the light was somehow connected with the meeting between her and the monk. Maybe Balthazar knew something she did not. It was an unnerving thought.  
  
When the monk was no more than five steps away, the assassin crouched and slid behind his back. Balthazar felt the motion and launched into a series of kicks and blows, but hit only shadows.  
  
"I am impressed by your prowess, brother, but do not exert yourself so on my account. I am here to make truce...or at least offer it." The woman was very pleased, when the monk had to shift to see her. Even if he was wrong by no more than 10 degrees. She lit an oil lamp and set it down to the floor by her feet.  
  
Balthazar frowned: "Who are you to presume to call me your brother?"  
  
The woman smiled happily. "If you did not know, why did you come? Or do you oft attend secret rendez-vous with beautiful women in these crypts? Is it your secret love-nest, Balthazar?"  
  
Balthazar was silent. When the woman understood that he was not going to reply, her eyes flashed with excitement. He was a wonderful adversary. "My name is Illasera ," she said evenly.  
  
"Illasera died a month ago on a knife of another Bhaalspawn," he answered with matching calm.  
  
It was her turn to pause then. "Whoever you are," Balthazar said finally, "you are a Bhaalspawn. I smell it on you. By that very reason, Illasera, or whatever your name is, I have only one thing to offer you. Death. We are of the same taint, but I am no brother to you. Over the years of training I learned to control Bhaal's spirit inside of me and I shall use it for only one purpose - to destroy us. I shall be the last one to die. And I will die by my own hand. This world has to be cleansed of Bhaal's seed."  
  
The woman, who called herself Illasera, applauded. "Impressive again, brother. So noble, so proud. Did not they teach you that none fell as low as men in whom pride coupled itself with the wish to save the world? Do yourself a favor, listen to me, before we fight to the death, or whatever else you wish us to do so passionately."  
  
"Are you another one of Amelissan's pawns? Your note suggested that you were," Balthazar wondered, almost smiling.  
  
"For a self-proclaimed Bhaalspawn's bane, you know surprisingly little about the dead. Amelissan's traitorous spirit has been cooing over Cyric for two weeks now," the woman replied coldly. "Do not stare at me. Thank me for the good news."  
  
Balthazar took his eyes away from her and massaged his temples. "You are not Illasera. She was nothing but a well-bred bloodhound, cruel to all but her master. Amelissan was Illasera's mistress, and she would not have bitten her hand. You are one of the girls whom Amelissan sold to Jon Irenicus for his labors. Thus, you brought me two pieces of news. My enemy is dead. And another whom I thought dead, still lives. What should I thank you for? "  
  
"For knowledge. But, if you prefer to be ungrateful, then so be it." The woman sounded almost jovial. However in another instant, she grew serious and continued: "I am Rima. Rima Anchev, if you like longer names. Jon Irenicus has killed our sister, Imoen. He ripped her soul out and gave it to his sister, Bodhi," Rima tilted her head and sighed. "If you want to destroy Bhaalspwan, you are my enemy. Do not forget though, that there are others out there still. Sendai. Abazigal. All we suggest is for you to move against one of them before you move against us. We shall destroy the second of our common adversaries in the meantime. Then - well, then we shall meet again, and I fear on much less peaceful terms."  
  
"Us." Balthazar mused. "Rima Anchev.Anchev was the man who started the madness, calling for the War of Sacrifice. He had matured before any of your murderous kin. But he is dead."  
  
"You will have to update your Book of the Living, as well as your Book of the Dead, monk," a thick, callous voice replied from the darkness.  
  
Rima smiled and for a second Balthazar thought that her whole face lit up with the light. And that light did not come from the burning oil. He looked hard, trying to penetrate the shadows dancing on the woman's sharp features. Balthazar remembered something.something that he had read so many times and put aside, failing to comprehend.  
  
They shall join their hands  
  
The Murderer and the Murdered  
  
For devoted - to be herded  
  
For unbelievers to cower  
  
Before one soul, one blood, one power  
  
In all the screaming lands.  
  
Rima nodded, and Balthazar realized that he must have spoken the words out loud. Or was she capable of reading his thoughts? His first impulse was to pretend to give in, and then take Rima unaware, to kill her, to destroy the abominable union, even if Sarevok's blade cut him apart afterwards. But he believed that a traitor cannot defeat a traitor. Balthazar bowed stiffly and announced formally: " I must decline your offer, Rima and Sarevok. I challenge you to a battle now."  
  
Rima's black eyes glistened with amusement. "I almost forgot that you are a human. But you are, just like all of us. Or you were.at least once. You want a challenge? I have one for you. Look."  
  
Rima extended her hand, and a bright spot of light flooded the far end of the crypt. Between the gravestones inscribed with epitaphs, stone statues of mourners and dried flowers stood an armored man. A slight boy of no more than ten, kneeled by his left side. The boy's thin dark braid was wrapped around Sarevok's wrist, like a leash. The boy jerked and squinted, blinded by the light.  
  
Balthazar's face grew stern. He rushed towards the light and stopped in his tracks when he heard Rima's laughter. It sounded like a chiming silver bell.  
  
"How can you be fooled by a mere projection spell, Balthazar?" Rima scolded. "They are not here. But I assure you that whatever Sarevok will do to your son will be very real." To illustrate her words, Sarevok gave the braid a sharp twist, and the boy squealed.  
  
"You will not dare to harm my child!" Balthazar exhaled.  
  
Rima raised her left brow. "Why? Because you will become our mortal enemy? You are my mortal enemy already. You have challenged me to fight to the death. Or because the little brat is your son? Tell me, Balthazar, have you ever given a thought to the sick and starving children in Amkethran as you amassed your army? Did you try to alleviate their suffering? Have you ever cared?"  
  
Balthazar swallowed. "I thought you have not," Rima concluded. "You had a goal instead. A grand goal that made you think that you can come to terms with their suffering. Sarevok and I - we feel the same way about Anzo. And we have a goal." The assassin scowled.  
  
"Sarevok is going to start breaking the boy's bones, Balthazar. All you need to do to stop it from happening is to say "yes" to our offer and to move your men tonight against Sendai. Or Abazigal." Balthazar stared at her, his eyes glowing.  
  
"You are still unconvinced, my stubborn brother?" Rima sighed. "Sarevok?" in the circle of light Sarevok caught the boy's hand and it disappeared for a moment under his large metal gauntlets. It grew so quiet that Bhalthazar heard the snap, and then the boy cried out in pain.only for a moment. Anzo remembered quickly that the boys do not cry, and bit his lip as hard as he could. The little finger on the boy's hand was now twisted at an unnatural angle.  
  
Balthazar knew that he lost. "Stop it," he demanded quietly. "I agree to what you have proposed."  
  
Rima's expression became merry. "I am so glad that we have come to an understanding, brother."  
  
"Yes, " Balthazar agreed, edging away from her. "Forgive me, son!" It took but a split second for a long sharp blade to leave its sheath at his belt and pierce her owner. Rima ran toward him just in time to see the blade to fall to the floor, and catch the dying monk in her arms.  
  
"Coward!" she yelled. Balthazar's eyes did not see her any longer. "At least he met the end he himself wished for," Rima muttered, "That's better than nothing." She looked up at her brother. "You did tell me that he would do it. You know the ways of the honorable folk surprisingly well."  
  
Sarevok chuckled in response, but there was nothing but bitterness in his voice. "We won, Rima," he said simply.  
  
Rima shook her head. "We did not get his troops."  
  
"Think, Rima," Sarevok urged. "What will happen in the monastery after they will find his body?"  
  
Rima threw her hood back and mussed up her hair. "I suppose that whoever takes the command.his second in command.if he is strong and wise, he will frame some beggar for Balthazar's murder, dismiss part of the soldiers and busy himself with restoring the monastery and Amkethran. If he is neither strong, nor wise he will give in to the demands of revenge and will move Balthazar's army against Sendai or Abazigal. They are undeniably suspects.and that's where he can find glory and power.  
  
Sarevok smiled: "If I was him, I would move the army against Sendai's drow cohorts and send a small group of champions against the dragonspawn. Numbers oft spell disaster against dragons. A dragon can kill a lot of cannon fodder and the rest of the herd will break. Army against army - that makes sense."  
  
"Then, if you want to beat the group of champions, we shall hurry to visit our dear oversized relatives," Rima turned away and started for the exit.  
  
"Not so fast, Rima," Sarevok said. "What should we do with the boy? He is of the blood."  
  
"Leave him here," Rima answered softly. "If the blood is strong with him, he shall survive and seek us out in time. If not." she let her voice to trail off as she walked out of the chamber.  
  
Rima was glad to be outside of the crypts. The night was warm and full of fragrance. Only the slimmest sliver of the moon and a handful of far away stars broke the black monotony of the sky. Such nights were rarity and a rogue's delight. With the fresh death still lingering about the crypts, Rima was especially sensitive to the joy of being alive and soon to be immortal. She wonered what was holding up Sarevok, impatient in her desire to use this night to its fullest.  
  
Sarevok finally exited the crypt and jammed his sword into the soft soil of Amkethran. Wiping the blood off. Rima thought furiously. "I told you to leave him there!"  
  
Sarevok took her firmly by the shoulders. "Do not yell, Rima." The anger was pulsating in her throat. He felt it, and said: "Never underestimate someone who seems to be too weak to ever hurt you. Gorion underestimated me. I underestimated you. We are both dead. I will not allow you to make the same mistake."  
  
"Anzo was only a child." Rima's voice sounded weak, even apologetic. She was sagging in his arms. Sarevok let go of her, but she did not fall down. He seemed to be pleased by it.  
  
"Mercy," he said slowly. "You allowed yourself to be merciful. And you tried to lie your way into it. Never do that again. I am not Gorion. A murdered should not have a name, a face or an age in your eyes, Rima. Do you understand?"  
  
"I do," Rima said. "I cannot pity anyone. Not orphans, not children.maybe. especially not children." Sarevok embraced her again and his hand slipped underneath her jacket in an accustomed gesture. "There are things you have to learn yet, Rima," he murmured, as his fingers caressed the soft belly of his lover. 


	5. Part 5

Part 5  
  
The Nine Hells, time unknown, still one of those days...  
  
"He is still limping." Rima thought. She felt it even though Sarevok was half a step behind her. The left side of his body was badly burned by the fire Abazigal had spat at the warrior a few months ago. It never healed fully, despite the potions and time.  
  
It was a punishment for their arrogance, Rima concluded. She had survived the fight only because of Sarevok's perseverance. The dragon's wing had clipped Rima, dropping her to the floor and sweeping her towards the massive clawed legs, when Sarevok, or a burning torch that once was him, brought his greatsword down on the dragon's head with the strength which only a desperate man could master. The dragon had fallen and terrified Rima was buried underneath the leathery folds of the dark wing. She could not move under the weight and she could not breathe.  
  
"It is all over," she thought and fainted.to wake up to the sight of the two bleeding hands pulling her head and shoulders through the cut in the wing. It was as thick as her thigh in places and the bones making up the wing's skeleton were massive and dark. Sarevok managed to free her hands before his wounds overwhelmed his spirit. Unconscious, Sarevok was so heavy that she could not move him. She took off his helmet, wondering if she would be able to undo the plate. He smelt of burned meat and melting iron, and his face looked dull and pale when his eyelids closed. There was a moment of madness when she considered leaving him there.no mercy, he said. No mercy for anyone. Gorion picked her over him, even if he was the firstborn of Alianna. Maybe Gorion did it because he was the firstborn and Bhaal's blood coursed undiluted through his veins? How strong was the taint in him before, she wondered, if even reduced to nothingness it sometimes seemed to be stronger than in her? Rima's chest tightened when she thought that it was Tamoko who loved him when he was whole. She uncorked the biggest potion bottle, put a few droplets into his ear and sighed with relief when he trembled and opened his eyes. " I will not kill you," she said softly. Sarevok's hand found hers and he rasped out: "Sister."  
  
The memory was still sharp, and Rima clenched her teeth. They won. They were but a step away from fulfilling the prophecy of Alaundo. She was ready to do it - with him and for him.  
  
The assassin was sure that no danger awaited them, not any more, but Sarevok insisted on guarding the rear. After two years of reckless adventuring, after her friend turned out to be a spy and her brothers and sisters became her mortal enemies, she finally dismissed the notion of danger. Sarevok was still suspicious of every shadow. Rima turned to look at him. He was fully armored. His only concession to her continuous teasing was the lifted visor. Through the narrow cut, she could see his eyes, aglow and empty. In the darkness of the narrow hall his helmet looked like a lamp floating in the air. "Sarevok." Rima said tentatively and stopped. He tried to embrace her, and for a moment she was pressed against the cold plate. "We won," she murmured, and he nodded. Rima went ahead again, towards the chamber at the end of the corridor.  
  
Rima did not expect particular grandeur, but apart from its size, the Throne would have passed unnoticed by a fireplace in a moderately priced inn. She even noticed a couple of cracks on the handles and on the side. Rima shook her head to chase away the vision of a fat tabby cat sleeping soundly in the middle of this Throne on a long winter night.  
  
Sarevok touched her shoulder and Rima turned her attention toward the Solar. The Solar's face and voice was serene as ever.  
  
"Here is the ancient seat of your Sire, child," the Solar announced. "What is your choice? Will you leave the mortal life behind and claim the godhood for yourself, or will you surrender the divine essence that fills you? Or do you wish to follow the path foreseen for the Blood of One Soul?"  
  
Rima smiled listlessly. Suddenly it was not so easy. "I, Rima, the true Blood of Bhaal, want to follow the path to one power."  
  
Rima bowed to the Solar and then she walked up what seemed to be an endless stair.but was no more than ten steps. Her knees shook.  
  
"One soul I share with the one of my blood. My hand murdered him, but my heart brought him back to life. I took a life but another life sprouted in my womb that day. I offer it to return my Sire back to this world."  
  
Rima's hand appeared from under the cloak that draped her figure and undid the clasp at her throat. The fabric fell, revealing Rima's slender figure and a bundle she held by her chest. Carefully Rima placed her burden on the Throne. She kneeled in front of the Throne to take a good look at the tiny pink face of the newborn babe and soft dark fluffy curls covering the top of his head. The child was sleeping.  
  
"He is the One Blood," she said tenderly, "The Blood of my Father, the Blood of my Brother and mine own Blood. In him the Prophecy is fulfilled."  
  
The Solar confirmed her words with a nod: "In him the Prophecy is fulfilled." The voice was outwardly serene when the Solar asked the next question: "Bhaalchild, you are now barren and you will be barren till the world lasts. Are you prepared to give up your firstborn for Bhaal to be resurrected?"  
  
Rima looked from the father to the child. She made this choice so long ago... "Yes," she said loudly.  
  
Without another word the Solar inclined her head, acknowledging the pledge. The swirling, luminescent streams of air broke into the chamber. Rima felt that it lifted her, burnt her and carried her away. In what could have been a second or a year, she was standing by the foot of the throne, side by side with her brother. Far above a great muscular man sat atop of the Throne. How stupid she was, to wish to sit in it herself, she thought. Bhaal's Throne was his and only his. She made a move to kneel in front of her Sire, but Sarevok caught her and held her upright.  
  
"He is our father and our son, Rima. We do not kneel."  
  
Bhaal laughed. "Well said. My spawn was numerous. None survived except for you. You have seen what the others have missed. You have fought when the others have given up. You have stayed loyal when others became traitorous. For that I grant you the power you were seeking. You are my Chosen. The domain I have lost we shall re-conquer. Go back to Material Plane, my Children, seek out those who are devoted and herd them. Make the unbelievers cower before us! May Murder follow in your footsteps. Go, my Children, we have no time to waste"  
  
Again Rima was lifted in the embrace of hot air and fire, but her flesh did not burn this time. It was over soon.  
  
Sarevok and Rima stood on the high ridge covered by the ankle-high grass. Below spread a busy port town. There was a small puddle by her feet and Rima kneeled by it and looked at her reflection. The softness and roundness given to her features and her figure by the pregnancy disappeared. There was nothing else in her appearance that changed. But Rima felt differently, she felt all-powerful and cold. She looked at Sarevok. Underneath the visor was only darkness. Her brother slowly removed the helmet. She saw the face she remembered so well. A face of a man who died in Baldur's Gate. A face, which was so much alike her own. Sarevok shook his head and the wind sent the long black strands of his hair flying.  
  
"Immortality suits you, brother," Rima said and started walking towards the city down below.  
  
The End 


End file.
